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In Wyoming’s sweeping prairies a tender new love will be put to the test.
Perry Yellow Horse arrived at Prairie Smoke Ranch fresh out of high school, a smart but timid young man with a love of books, horses, and his family. In no time, he found his second home on the sprawling grasslands under the Tetons. Perry’s happiness is tempered only by the fact that he’s keeping a rather large secret from those closest to him.
Unsure and awkward, the virginal young man who can gain the trust of even the most skittish horses, suddenly finds himself trying to save the soul of a wild newcomer to the ranch. Will Abbott is seemingly unbreakable and nothing but trouble, but there’s something in Will’s dark eyes that appeals to Perry’s gentle heart.
Twilight’s Touch is a second in a series, first love, M/M contemporary western with a virginal horse whisperer, a bad boy in need of gentle guidance, a slow-moving mystery, and a beautiful happy ending.
“You missed the chance to have me wash your back.” I jerked at the unexpected sound of his voice, spinning to gape at him coming through the doorway. He’d pulled on his dirty jeans. His towel lay around his red neck, his underwear in one hand, bar of soap wrapped in his towel in the other. His dark hair lay flat on his head, soaking wet still. Water droplets lingered on his broad shoulders glittering like diamonds in the remaining rays of sunlight. I’d never seen him look so good. Generally, I showered early to avoid the other guys in the showers. Not that I had anything to hide but I’d always felt self-conscious when I was naked. Gym classes had been torture when I was in high school even after I’d bulked up and grew taller. “Oh man, did you bring a book about dead Greeks to bore me to sleep tonight?”
Flustered because holy fuck the man was going commando, I stammered a bit then held the book out to him.
“I signed it out for you.” He stood in the doorway, dwindling light framing him perfectly, staring at the library book as if it were a diamondback. “It’s about Leonidas when he was training at the agoge. I’d guess he was probably seven at the beginning, but it follows him throughout his years there. Most young men graduated around the age of twenty. The young kids had to shave their heads, had no shoes, and were given one cloak. Then when they progressed through the program, they—”
I clamped my rambling mouth shut. Will’s expression was unreadable, so I tensed in preparation for a fist to fly at me.
“Why would you get me a stupid book?” he enquired, his voice craggy and cautious.
“Uhm, because you said you’d probably be more into books if you could have read about a kickass young Leonidas.” I shook the hardcover at him. “Here it is. If you want it. I didn’t mean to come off as some book snob or something who’s trying to cram reading down your throat. I just thought that it might open up the world of reading to you and—”
He pounded toward me, towel hitting the floor, his bar of soap skittering out of the cotton wrap to slide across the worn board, his gaze pure fire. When his hand came up, I fisted my right hand, ready to fight, but his fingers weren’t balled up. They were loose and settled on the nape of my neck as he closed the small distance between us. His lips crushed down over mine. My eyes flared for a moment, catching a glimpse of his lashes settling on his pink cheeks. He sighed as his mouth settled over mine. The book slid to the floor. I grabbed at his sides, fear quickly replaced with an all-consuming mixture of shock and lust.
Holy shit, Will is kissing me!
USA Today Bestselling Author V.L. Locey – Penning LGBT hockey romance that skates into sinful pleasures.
V.L. Locey loves worn jeans, yoga, belly laughs, walking, reading and writing lusty tales, Greek mythology, Torchwood and Dr. Who, the New York Rangers, comic books, and coffee. (Not necessarily in that order.) She shares her life with her husband, her daughter, one dog, two cats, a pair of geese, far too many chickens, and two steers.
When not writing spicy romances, she enjoys spending her day with her menagerie in the rolling hills of Pennsylvania with a cup of fresh java in one hand and a steamy romance novel in the other.
